


picture

by placidings



Category: Noli Me Tangere & Related Works - José Rizal
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Selfies, medj walang kwenta to friends, my boi may be slightly ooc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-07
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2019-01-10 03:19:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12290103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/placidings/pseuds/placidings
Summary: Isagani almost never takes selfies--but when he does, he hits Basilio's buttonsall at once.





	picture

**Author's Note:**

> i saw [this](https://www.instagram.com/p/BW0FJVilQuQ/?taken-by=mistersenpai) on my ig feed and, well, this thing happened. unbeta'd.  
> s/o to hannah because this just happened in the [rp](https://twitter.com/makata__) world

Isagani almost never takes selfies—he's either always too busy to do so, or he just couldn't be bothered to. Either way, Isagani's selfies were rare gems when he takes them, and as few as they are he knew exactly how to push Basilio's buttons just right. 

To say he pushed his buttons was an understatement—Isagani hit them all at once. 

Basilio damn near dropped his phone when he opened Isagani's latest message: suddenly, all the air seemed to have escaped his lungs, his underwear felt too tight underneath his scrubs, and the frigid hospital emergency room felt a hell of a lot hotter even though he was freezing mere seconds ago. He loved his job, of course, it was all he dreamed of–but suddenly, he wanted the damn shift to end.

He still had thirty minutes left, and he found himself counting down the minutes until he could go home to Isagani. 

Isagani, who, in his latest selfie, stood in front of a mirror wearing nothing but a navy blue baseball cap perched backwards atop his wavy hair and a pair of boxer briefs that showed off the curve of his pert ass (and, well, the glorious package that Basilio couldn't wait to unwrap). Basilio shut down at the expanse of skin he was showing off; astounded at the glow of his tan (thanks to days at the beach, of course), the softness at his midsection, the muscles in his arms, and his tongue sticking out at the camera. 

God. Basilio found himself thanking every saint he knew—his boyfriend was fucking beautiful. 

He bit back a laugh at the message attached, his heart swelling with fondness: "Happy birthday, my love. Come home soon!"

**Author's Note:**

> self-indulgent, i know.


End file.
